


Holding On

by serialkarma



Category: Wilby Wonderful (2004)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 05:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4613373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serialkarma/pseuds/serialkarma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Happy endings aren't actually easy, you know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding On

The first time Dan flinched away from Duck was on a sunny afternoon outside the hardware store, as Pete and Steve Girard were passing by. Dan realized what he’d done almost immediately, but it was still too late. Duck frowned, and then his eyes shuttered over and he took one slow step back from Dan before taking his fingers off Dan’s wrist.  
  
Dan wanted to pull him back, to say sorry, it was an accident, a mistake, a habit, but the look on Duck’s face made Dan’s voice dry up and his stomach twist. So he just stood there while Duck said, “See you later,” and picked up his toolbox and walked to the truck.  
  
***  
  
The first time Dan and Duck made love was also on a sunny afternoon, two days after Dan was discharged from hospital. They were in Duck’s small bedroom with the white-paneled walls and a big, wide window that was open to let in the sun and the sea breeze.  
  
Dan pressed Duck down into the cotton sheets; the pillows were squished up against the headboard and Duck was lying flat on the bed. He arched his neck when Dan bent his head to run his tongue along Duck’s throat. Duck’s hands slid down Dan’s back and Dan could feel the calluses on Duck’s palms, like fine-grain sandpaper against his skin.  
  
***  
  
Dan closed the store early on Mondays, so he was at the house well before Duck, who often worked late in the summer, to take advantage of the light.  
  
He still thought of it as Duck’s house, even though he’d been staying there for three months. At first it was because he had nowhere else to go, and Duck had said, “You can stay with me, if you want.” Dan had told himself it was temporary, he’d find an apartment soon and be on his own and be just fine. But it had been weeks now--months--and he was staying at Duck’s house and sleeping in Duck’s bed and Duck hadn’t asked him to leave, never asked him if he had plans, if he wanted to leave, if he wanted to stay. Duck hadn’t said, “Stay with me as long as you want, stay with me forever,” but he hadn’t asked him to leave either.   
  
Duck seemed to accept every day that Dan was still there, and never asked for anything more. Dan sometimes wondered how he learned to do that--he had a feeling it didn’t come naturally, that Duck’s calm was a hard-won prize. But Duck didn’t talk about his past much, and Dan didn’t know how to ask.  
  
Dan didn’t know how to ask for a lot of things.  
  
***  
  
The first time Dan tried to cook dinner for Duck, he almost burned the house down. Duck walked in the door to find smoke billowing from the kitchen archway and Dan frantically waving smoke out the screen door at the back, coughing, eyes red and teary.  
  
As it turned out, it was really Duck’s fault for not cleaning the burner properly when spaghetti sauce had boiled over. He took Dan to dinner at Iggy’s in apology, and when they got back, he pushed Dan onto the sofa, then knelt between Dan’s legs and blew him. Dan curled his fingers in Duck’s hair and breathed in the smell of burnt tomatoes and ozone, and groaned when he came in Duck’s mouth.  
  
***  
  
Dan thought about making dinner, that night, but the fridge was bare. He thought about going to the store to get food, but he wanted to be there when Duck got home. He thought about going to the store to get food, because he  _didn’t_  want to be there when Duck got home.   
  
He thought he didn’t know what he wanted.   
  
He thought about how his stomach had hurt all day and worried that his ulcer was coming back, because he didn’t want to think about what he would say when Duck got home. He really didn’t want to think about what  _Duck_  would say when he got home.  
  
***  
  
As it turned out, Duck didn’t say anything when he got home. In fact, he didn’t even come inside. Dan found him sitting on the back porch steps, smoking a cigarette. He didn’t turn around when Dan opened the screen door and stepped outside.  
  
Dan forgot to catch the door before it slammed shut--the spring had broken the other day and Duck hadn’t had time to fix it yet--and he winced at the sharp crack of wood on wood. “Sorry,” he muttered, as he sat down beside Duck. Duck didn’t look over at him, just nodded absently.  
  
Why was it so easy to apologize for the little things, the ones that were forgotten the next day, the next minute even, and so unbelievably hard to apologize for the things that really needed it? He hadn’t had such a hard time taking a deep breath since the hospital.   
  
“I didn’t mean it,” he started. “I didn’t mean to…hurt you.” The same warm breeze that was making the tops of the trees sway brushed against his face, blew his hair off his forehead.  
  
“It’s…not easy,” Dan tried again. “This all,” he huffed out something that sounded like a laugh. “This is all very new, for me.”  
  
Duck was still staring straight ahead. He took a drag on his cigarette, blew out the smoke, and then said, “I know.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Dan said.   
  
Duck dropped the cigarette butt, ground it out with his heel. He let his hands dangle between his knees and didn’t say anything for a minute. Then he reached over and picked up Dan’s right hand with his left, pressed his palm to Dan’s, intertwined their fingers. He didn’t squeeze, just held on enough that Dan could feel his warm, solid strength.  
  
“I know,” Duck said.  
  
Dan just held on.


End file.
